


How Time heals

by loveamongstars



Series: Healing Hearts [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post 1x06, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22912753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveamongstars/pseuds/loveamongstars
Summary: See you around, Geralt. Those were the last words Jaskier had spoken to the white-haired witcher before walking away. And now he stood at the edge of a cliff, staring over the wide countryside. The world below him was vast and in so many ways empty and meaningless. He was but a small being here, insignificant and yet he was leaving his mark behind, with every person he met, every song he sung. Geralt left a mark, too, on him. As he had walked away, he couldn’t describe the pain.Coda to Episode 1x06 up to the Fall of Cintra. What could have happened to Jaskier during that time.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s)
Series: Healing Hearts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664773
Comments: 5
Kudos: 89





	How Time heals

See you around, Geralt. Those were the last words Jaskier had spoken to the white-haired witcher before walking away. And now he stood at the edge of a cliff, staring over the wide countryside. The world below him was vast and in so many ways empty and meaningless. He was but a small being here, insignificant and yet he was leaving his mark behind, with every person he met, every song he sung. Geralt left a mark, too, on him. As he had walked away, he couldn’t describe the pain. Years of writing songs, singing, indulging in research, even teaching, had not prepared him for the breathless pain this had brought. He conducted himself well, Jaskier thought. His reaction was quiet, he had pointed out the unfairness of Geralt’s reaction to him and accepted when he had thrown at him. He had known him long enough not to cross him or provoke him more, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how a burning instinct in him had told him to give him a proper rebuttal. And now here he was, looking out over a landscape as he made his way down the mountain to where the horses were tied up.  
It was a three day march, like it had been on the way up, and yet he was still somehow surprised he had made it there before Geralt had. Roach was still down there, waiting patiently. Jaskier gave her a sad smile.

  
“I guess it’s the last we see of each other, too, for a while at least.” He reached out to give her a very gentle nudge on the shoulder. Jaskier went to her saddle bag. He had some of his provisions and things stored in there for the climb up. Once he had everything he turned to the road. Not having Roach as a destination anymore, not knowing when or even if he would meet Geralt again, was a different feeling altogether. Sure, he never knew if he would meet the witcher again, but it was a different quality. Those were moments where Geralt could have been hurt or killed. This was a willing separation, or forced in many ways. A falling out he had not anticipated, even when he started picking up on Geralt’s unhappiness. Maybe he should have seen it coming as easily as he read the appropriate reaction to Geralt’s anger. But he didn’t and time could not be turned back - or maybe it could be, yet it did not mean it should be.

When Jaskier reached a city, it became apparent how different everything was in the wake of this. He had barely noticed the way down here, had barely taken in nature, yet he usually loved to do just that, to observe and perhaps find metaphors for his songs, carefully hidden in forests, lakes and all around. He had not even picked up on any crossings. He had just walked, faster than he had expected himself to walk, with no destination aside from eventually needing to reach a town to earn his keep.

  
The next problem was the how. People knew him and they knew his songs about the white wolf and inexplicably after all these years they still wanted to hear those. And so he had to sing them. Yet he knew himself he was signing them less energetic. He felt a pit of despair in his stomach that made food entirely unappealing yet alcohol even more so. And so he ordered himself alcohol as he sang, still perfectly aware of how he managed to dance just on the edge of getting drunk when ordering himself water, to keep sober enough to finish his songs and maybe to keep sober enough to get himself a room later and actually find it, too.

  
He caught sight of him, when he looked up after playing Fishmongers daughter. Tall, dark, handsome, broody and staring at him like he would eat him up if he could. Deciding to take a break, Jaskier grabbed himself an ale and moved to him.

  
“I’m Jaskier”, he said, well aware of how awkward it seemed, but he did not care. He did not need this to be smooth. He did not need this to be anything other than something that might happen and hopefully would. A glint in the strangers eyes, confirmed to him that he might be attracted to him.

  
“I know”, the man replied, voice deep and scratchy. A large hand reached out for Jaskiers. Oh happen it would. The bard took a drink before taking a seat in front of the stranger. Sitting there he realized he would easily tower over him. All the better. 

Waking up to a stranger was nothing new to Jaskier. Waking up and being almost entirely unable to move was. Remembering the previous night, Jaskier reached up to where one of his hands was still tied to a bedpost to undo the knot and get up. Jaskier went to the looking glass. The person looking back at him was not the man he knew. He was wounded, he could see it in his eyes. He was hurt and the pain had not gone away. He had sought the company of the man to make him feel and he did feel, physically at least, the evidence of that was plain to see on his skin. He had bruises on his torso, his wrists, his neck, bruises he had actively encouraged and yet they had not given him what he had been seeking. Again time was of the essence here. He could not go back in time and yet he knew time was the one thing that could heal him and teach him how to feel again. Where he could easily love before, apparently that flame had been smothered by Geralt’s words. He wanted it back. He wanted to see someone and feel the warmth of affection, the exhilaration of getting to know someone, the happiness of making them happy. That was what he missed. He missed the ease. A shaking hand reached out to touch the image of the man he was at the moment. He didn’t know him….but he wanted to get to know him, to learn how he got this wound and how he could heal it. Evidently this had not been it. It would have been an easy remedy, get it out of your system, quick and easy. Nothing in this world came easily. 

Time, it seemed, was on his side. He traveled from town to town and every day singing his songs became easier, dancing a little, became easier. His steps became lighter, he smiled more during them. He drank less once more and ate more. It actually took him almost three days to be able to stomach anything other than a little bit of porridge after reaching that town and on the way down he had only had bread. It had been weeks since that incident now. In this town, things were very, very different. There she was, a girl helping out at the bar, giving every man a bright smile and a witty reply to dodge their advances. Jaskier found himself drawn to her, unlike many of the other men, though, it was her wit that entranced him and her happiness. Having finished the song, he placed himself at the bar and just watched her work. She danced a little between chores, almost as if she had practiced steps and yet he could tell she hadn’t. This night was in her favor and so it was in his. Finally he decided to leave to get to sleep, but not before going up to her, reaching for her hand, placing a coin in it while kissing it.  
“Thank you for being such a wonderful hostess tonight. You truly lifted my spirits, gorgeous Lady.”

He saw Geralt again. He was just done playing half an hour ago and sat down to eat a fantastic chicken soup, when the witcher entered the tavern and seated himself in a corner. An urge inside Jaskier almost made him get up, but he didn’t. He wasn’t even sure Geralt saw him, but if he did, well it was on him to go to him, was it not. He sent him away, it was on him to ask him to return…if he wanted him to. He had never been vocal about wanting him to be around yet tolerated him enough to make Jaskier feel not unwanted. Perhaps he had misread those signs all along. Once he finished his food, Jaskier left the tavern. He found Roach tied up outside. This time the mare gave him a gentle nudge. He smiled at her.   
“Hello to you, too, Roach.” Petting her, the bard went down the road, off to seek more adventures of his own and now even once again recognizing and feeling nature all around him.

When he met her, he fell in love so easily again. It was effortless to love her and it was effortless to be loved by her. She expected nothing of him, yet wanted to see him happy. He expected nothing of her, yet wanted to see her happy. For a while he was stationary, staying in her house, being her lover in every way that counted and some that other men would not even think about. He took care of chores when she was working, worked himself to earn his keep and get her little gifts. He wrote songs about the curvy beauty that had captured his heart and held it delicately in her hands as if it was a bird with broken wings. And she nursed that bird back to full health. Sadly that meant he knew their time together was about to come to an end. Sadly, she knew it, too. It did not stop them from enjoying every beautiful moment they were given together.

  
They knew the end of their love story came when they made it to the coast. The couple sat in the sand when from a distance a whistling noise could be heard. Curious and oddly fearful, they followed the noise. Hiding behind a stone, the bard and his lover witnessed two people, dressed in black robes and light blue underneath whistle over the sea. In her curiosity she moved, as if to get up to get closer, but Jaskier held her back, for the first time holding her with full strength.

  
“Don’t”, he warned her. She looked at him, blue eyes wide, curious and almost fearful. Good, because in all his years traveling with a witcher nothing good had come out of two people standing by the sea and whistling for no apparent reason. Except he knew enough tales, enough stories and enough recounts, to know exactly what they were and what they were doing.  
“Why? What is it, my love? Are they dangerous? What are they doing?”

  
“They are whistling up a storm. We need to go. Now.” Jaskier took her hand and pulled her away, keeping her low with an arm flung over her back so they would not be seen. At least he hoped they would not be seen. Jaskier knew then and there, he had to leave. He had to leave because for some reason stuff like that happened in his world. Not in hers. In her world the most terrible thing that happened was having to buy another dress, because her swelling belly would no longer allow for it to be tied up properly, no matter how much she tried. It always earned her a loving kiss and a chuckle from the bard. Before he left, he placed a bag of coins on her bed, before he went to kiss her goodbye. She did not cry. He did not cry. They both smiled, grateful for the moments they got to share and the happiness they could find in each other. Peace was what he found. But Jaskier’s time of peace was over. And people whistling up storms was bad news, so bad that he knew only one place to go to with a concern like that, only one person.

  
As he reached the edge of the town he found a sign post. He had seen it in passing so often, but never noticed one of the destinations on it was Oxenfurt. Then and there his heart was torn. To go to Oxenfurt, to teach, to retain his peace a little longer to go find Geralt, tell him what he saw days ago, fall into an old pattern, which had been son ingrained in him, losing it had thrown him off. He was attuned to it again.

  
“Cintra!” Jaskier turned around as he heard the shout. It was a rider that had come into town, to tell them of the news. “Cintra has fallen.” Just like that the decision was taken out of his hand and made.


End file.
